


i've been the archer (i've been the prey)

by the_parentheticals



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied Body Horror, Origin Story, Poor Life Choices, Unreliable Narrator, everyone is sympathetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:27:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_parentheticals/pseuds/the_parentheticals
Summary: Two parts of the closest thing to a whole you have. Who could leave? But who could stay?(or, patton and deceit reflect about what they did, and why)





	1. i never grew up (it's getting so old)

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily based off “The Archer.” Like, sticks-so-rigidly-to-the-song-it-might-bother-someone heavily.
> 
> The line “You’re Deceit. And I think you should go.” came from @fiddler-unroofed on Tumblr.
> 
> Also, first time posting something on AO3 before Tumblr!

It had been nice, before.

Before, there was no dark. There didn't have to be.

Before, there were only Curiosity and you. That was all he had needed.

Before, Thomas had been happy. Thomas had been good.

The voice had come into your head, and that ruined everything.

_Don’t you want anything for yourself?_ he asked when Thomas gave away his cookies at snack time.

"No," you said. And that was the first day.

The voice didn’t go away. It didn’t want to, and no one knew it was there. The voice didn’t like that, either, but it couldn’t do anything. Not really.

On the last day, Curiosity asked you if you were fine.

You said yes. You said he shouldn’t worry.

_You’re lying. You know you are._

"You’re right. I shouldn’t. That’s your job."

Curiosity looked at you, eyebrows raised and pressed together at the same time.

You smiled, even though that was the last thing you wanted to do. "Just under the weather!" you added, pulling out an umbrella. You went to your room.

You stayed there for two days.

There was a mirror in the room when you got back. There had never been any mirrors in the room. Your reflection stared at you. You closed your eyes. It didn’t stop.

You lay down on the bed. When you opened your eyes, there were scales on your face. You wanted them out. You wanted him out.

_Why? Are you scared of yourself?_

Because they were bad! Because he was bad! You were good! You had to be right and not wrong!

_If that’s what you want._

All you remembered next was that you wanted to scream. But your hand covered your mouth and then your other hand gripped the covers and your other hand covered your eyes.

And then there weren’t scales on your face anymore. Someone else was on your floor, against your bed.

"You—" You might have been crying. You honestly didn’t know. (It was working, right?) "You’re—" My dark side. "A liar. I don’t like you. And I think you should go."

He stared at you blankly.

"Just go!" You rubbed your face. He walked out the door. It really didn’t matter where he went, as long as it wasn’t yours. You fell off the bed.

Since that day, you didn’t like mirrors.

The twins came later. Creativity had been there for a while. You liked him. Just not some of the things he said.

"What would it be like if you jumped out the car window?"

You hadn’t wanted it to happen. Not on purpose, anyway. But one day he wasn’t there. And the twins were.

You felt it instantly. You knew why the split had happened. And there was a reason one of them had to go. Which could only be the reason you did something you never wanted.

You looked for the liar.

He was exhausted when he did appear, and you felt a little guilty for not wondering where he had been. But it didn’t matter. Not right now.

The twins were with you. Logic wasn’t. (You could _not_ get used to that name.) You didn’t want him to see this.

"Please take him," you said. You pointed at the green twin. You weren’t smiling, but you still tried to look somewhere between resigned and desperately cheerful.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to say anything. He still knew you, too much. Whatever you did say, he would see right through.

"Am I leaving forever?" asked Remus.

"I don’t want you to!" yelled Roman.

"Why aren’t we like that?"

"You know," you said after a long pause, quietly, furiously, and you didn’t want to cry, not in front of—the kids.

"I _won’t_ take him." He gently pried the twins apart. You took Roman’s hand immediately.

"Come on, Roman." You tugged on his hand. "We’re going home." 

Roman looked at you.

You smiled. Because, really, it was all you could do. And even then, it was never enough.

You woke up, once, in the middle of the night. Filled with feelings.

And in the end, you’re upset. You’re sorry that you had to do it. That you didn’t want anything else dark in Thomas’s life. You wanted a better solution. (But what if you did?)

You just had to believe everything would be okay. You didn’t want anything else wrong to happen again.

You saw his face in the window.

You kept the curtains closed after that.

What you did figure out was that everything broke one day. But you just had to believe that this wasn’t true. Not here. Not for Thomas.

The place had changed. The darkness was gone. Or as close to gone as it ever was. And you could start again. With Logic and Roman and you.

You would take yourselves, and you would become a famILY.

You would be safe.


	2. i jump from the train (i ride off alone)

You started good, you would admit, or at least better than you were now. As just another voice in the back of a mind, like everyone else. It made no difference whose it was.

As the voice that wanted for Thomas’s well-being. Wasn’t that good? Wasn’t it still what you were doing? Why could none of the light sides see that?

Patton didn’t agree. But then, he hadn’t been Morality, back then. His outlook had been much more black-and-white than it was now, and that was still difficult to surpass. But you had known what he wanted.

He wanted you gone. So did you.

You didn’t know where to go, and all you did was walk off alone until you couldn’t see anything anymore. This must have been what he wanted of you. And it was working.

From most points of view, this was much better. You could say all the right things, get people to listen. Not depend on the reactions of someone preoccupied with every detail of every word you said.

You still didn’t like it, even after the next side.

He had come in the middle of the night, in a cloud of a darkness you understood. One that stuck on every part of himself and dissolved when it got too far.

"**I—**"

His voice echoed and echoed and it got too much.

Morality (and it was Morality back then) wouldn’t be able to stand him, would he? He’d loathe him. You couldn’t let that happen, and you couldn’t breathe why couldn’t you breathe this reminded you uncomfortably of the day you left no too soon—

Yes, this was definitely the work of the new side. It would be probably best to start smooth, with a tap on the shoulder. 

"Do you know who you are? I’m Deceit." This was what Morality thought of you, and you didn’t have a better name.

He nodded.

"That’s good. Can you come with me?"

Another nod.

Virgil had been the first. Paranoia had been the first.

Remus? Remus had been the first one they knew about.

You were exhausted. Paranoia wasn’t easy to deal with, especially when you forgot to tell the truth, or when one of his attacks came on. But you couldn’t let Morality know that. When he summoned you, you were glad Paranoia was in his room. Which probably meant he was approaching his emo phase.

Morality stood there with two people, identical except for their clothing colours. All of you were Thomas, of course, but all of you were still at least subtly different.

"Please take him," said Morality.

It was a split, wasn’t it? Of something he’d deemed wrong somehow. Of something he didn’t want around him anymore. He’d done that with you, at the very, very least. So the question was, who was it?

It couldn’t be Logic. Morality didn’t like him, but neither of them was wearing glasses. And if there was one thing you knew about Logic, it was that he was completely blind without his glasses.

"Why should I?" you asked.

He said nothing. Lie of omission. The two of you looked at each other, and you understood.

The twins were holding on to each other.

"Why can’t we be like that?" asked Morality.

_You wanted me gone._

_You thought I hurt Thomas._

_There’s no place for me._

You said none of that. "You know. I won’t take him." You pried the twins’ fingers apart. You were sorry.

"Come on, Roman," Morality said, tugging on the red twin’s hand. "We’re going home."

Home. As if.

You turned to the green twin. "We’re leaving, too."

You were going to have every single one of your hands full after this.

It was difficult to tell just how exhausting it was to take care of both of them. Especially when you didn’t like mirrors.

Patton thought you were wrong, so he made you look wrong. This was simple to understand, to the point where you were almost certain you were underestimating his intelligence. The point was, you weren’t supposed to like the way you looked.

And you didn’t.

It was like a victory for Patton. It was a meaningless one, but it was still a victory.

You sighed and managed to burn the eggs you were making.

You stayed up after that, when the smoke poured into your room. It wouldn’t stop, and the window was the only thing left uncovered. There had never been a window in your room.

You caught a glimpse of Patton on the other side before he shut the curtains.

Things changed after that, slowly. Paranoia became Virgil. And new additions came.

But it wasn’t enough, not for Thomas. You were going to make him see that, eventually. 

Whatever it took.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't believe I actually wrote this, to be honest. And I have a lot of feelings about this. About everything.
> 
> This has been one of my most stressful works, and I'm glad that you read this.
> 
> Yes, there are a few inconsistencies between their perspectives, and that's intentional.


End file.
